


Assassinating Adora

by Wicked42



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Assassin - Freeform, Awesome XD, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, LOTS of violence, Much death, Oh also, Poison, Sickfic, Vomiting Blood, Whump, Wow, also bow and glimmer are great, and look, and the Best Friend Squad murdering people, assassination attempt, post-redemption arc for catra, stabbing too?, there's perfuma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2020-10-20 11:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20674358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicked42/pseuds/Wicked42
Summary: Catra’s ears rang, her eyes sliding to the dagger embedded in her chest. Between the ribs, then. Her breath was weakening by the second. A lung. That bastard had punctured a lung.She was going tokill him.------------------An assassin tries to attack Adora... but he doesn't know about the cat that sleeps on her bed.So much whump, guys. SO MUCH. I was shocked at how this fic spiraled. XD





	1. Stabby Stabby and Blood

“Coward,” Catra hissed from the shadows.

Hovering over Adora, a blade inching from the folds of his jacket, the assassin paused. Catra noted Hordak’s pathetic symbol emblazoned on his back, and snorted. So a coward _and _an idiot, then. Hordak wasn’t so invulnerable that the Rebellion wouldn’t retaliate if one of his own killed their precious She-Ra.

But the assassin wasn’t killing She-Ra. He was aiming at Adora, pure, innocent, _stupid _Adora.

Which made it Catra’s problem.

She stalked out of the shadows where she’d taken residence to wait, narrowing her eyes. The assassin narrowed his too, behind a mask that hid his nose and mouth. His glare wasn’t nearly as fierce as hers.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice she’d been drugged?” Catra drawled, circling the bed, where Adora snored softly, drooling out the corner of her mouth. Just another night for the Rebellion’s precious princess.

Catra’s tail flicked as she returned her gaze to the assassin, who wisely hadn’t moved. Her lips curled into a cruel smile. “Did you really think you could just slip sleeplock in her drink, then stab her with none the wiser? Because,” Catra laughed now, a cold, icy sound, “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but everyone _adores _her.” Somehow, the pun wasn’t as poisonous as it used to be.

The assassin watched her, silent.

Catra flexed her claws, raising one hand for inspection, and finished her threat. “And her friends… well, we pay attention.”

“You won’t interfere,” the assassin said, calmly.

Catra’s vision tinted red. Calmly? _Calmly_, he dared to threaten _her_, the prior commander of Hordak’s army, the vindictive queen of the Fright Zone. The one who tamed the Crimson Wastes in an afternoon. The one who repeatedly brought the feared She-Ra to her knees.

Who the hell did he think he was?

Well, he’d be dead in a minute. So it didn’t really matter, now did it?

She snarled, claws extended, and lunged. But he was fast, faster than she expected, especially after a season of sparring with slow-as-a-tank Adora. His hands latched onto her arm, and he ducked out of the way, using her momentum to yank her past him. She crashed to the ground hard enough to see stars, but he didn’t attack her again.

No, he’d rounded on Adora instead.

Fear curled around Catra’s heart, bright and fierce. She could have told Arrow and Glitter and the castle staff. They could have put Adora in the infirmary, but instead Catra guided her right into her bedroom, covered her with a blanket, watched the sleeplock take hold.

After all, she’d already been drugged. Catra couldn’t stop that. But an assassin drugging people around Bright Moon was more of a threat than using Adora—secretly—as bait.

Of course, that logic only functioned if Adora didn’t _die _in the process.

“Get away from her,” Catra shouted, the words ripped from her chest in an explosion. She swiped with her leg just as the creep slammed his blade towards Adora’s throat. Her foot made contact with his shin, and he pitched sideways, scrambling for balance. Catra lunged again, tackling him to the ground.

“You—won’t interfere,” the assassin grunted, even as his knife skidded across the smooth marble floor. Catra kicked it with her foot. Once humans lost their weapons, they were basically defenseless lumps of flour. Adora proved it over and over with their fights. Take away the sword, and she was about as fierce as a kitten.

Luckily, Catra wasn’t human. Catra had built-in weapons. She grinned, baring her fangs as she slashed at his face with her claws. He gasped as her nails shredded the mask, cutting the flesh underneath to ribbons.

Blood welled from five parallel cuts, each slicing jagged lines across his face. The assassin screamed, and Catra took a second to inspect him properly.

She thought she knew everyone in the Fright Zone. Everyone of importance, anyway. But she had no idea who this guy was, or what position he held in Hordak’s army. Her brows furrowed, and she said, “Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

“You wouldn’t have, rebel _scum_,” he snarled, his voice raw with pain. Blood covered so much of his face it was basically a seeping mess now.

It looked painful.

Well, she could help with that.

Catra pinned herself on his chest, gripped his shirt, yanked the folds of his cloak away. She savored the violent tear of cloth before caressing the exposed skin underneath. His breath hitched, and her malicious grin spread as she bent closer to his face. Filling everything he saw, so he’d remember who killed him.

“Next time, you’d better drug us both.” And she buried her claws into his neck.

Right at the same time, something stuck into her side.

Something sharp.

The pain came next, a radiating ache that bloomed from terrible numbness to something much, much worse. Catra had spent years handling pain, but this—this hit something vital. She could feel it shift in her soul, feel it in the blood that leaked past the blade as her fingers curled around it instinctively.

He shoved her off, gripping his impaled neck as if it could stop him from dying.

Catra’s ears rang, her eyes sliding to the dagger embedded in her chest. Between the ribs, then. Her breath was weakening by the second. A lung. That bastard had punctured a lung.

She was going to _kill him_.

She turned, only to see him once again staggering towards Adora. And this time, when she moved, it was like she fought through molasses, swimming instead of leaping, gasping instead of shouting.

He plunged another dagger—how many knives did this guy _have?—_at her friend, but adrenaline surged and suddenly, Catra’s wound faded to the background. _Protect Adora. You can save yourself later. _

“Get _away_,” Catra snarled, crashing into him again.

The blade nicked Adora’s shoulder, but it was nothing life threatening.

Not like his wounds were about to be.

They slammed to the ground, and Catra grabbed his head, digging her claws into his skull as she smashed it against the marble floor. She was beyond civilities, beyond nicks and scratches that looked pretty but didn’t incapacitate.

His head beat the stone floor again and again, and on the third one shove, his body went limp.

On the fourth, hers did too.

Something was really wrong.

Catra staggered off of him, fighting to keep her eyes open, abandoning the bastard’s body to swallow the surge of bile that swelled in her throat. Her hand pressed clumsily against the knife embedded in her side, and against her better judgement, she yanked it out. The shock of pain almost made her eyes roll into her skull, but she bit her lip until she tasted blood and shook her head to clear the fog.

She’d been through worse. This was—this was nothing.

Nothing.

So why did she feel so sick?

“W-What did you do to me?” Catra gasped.

The assassin, still limp on the floor, smiled past bloody teeth. Barely a quirk of his lips, the light already fading from his eyes, he rasped, “Not a drug. P-Poison.” And his eyelids went slack, his hand falling from his neck.

Gone.

The bile swelled in her throat once again, and Catra grabbed at Adora’s desk for purchase as she heaved—except it wasn’t sick that splattered across the cool white marble, but blood, violent red and startling. Her wound screamed, igniting in fire that had Catra dizzy with pain and fear.

He’d poisoned her. That bastard _poisoned _her.

But suddenly, it wasn’t herself she worried about.

Catra’s hazy eyes slid to Adora, finally realizing what he’d meant. He’d only just nicked her, but—but Adora ingested the sleeplock an hour ago. At least, Catra assumed it was sleeplock, based on the loopy way Adora acted before crashing to her cot. What if it wasn’t? What if she’d just received another dose of poison on top of something already designed to kill her in her sleep?

“A-Ador-a,” Catra gasped, spitting blood as she hauled herself to her feet. Her bare toes slipped in blood, but she wasn’t sure if it was hers or the assassin’s. The room looked like a massacre—for such a short fight, he’d done so much damage.

And she was the idiot that let it happen. Arrow and Glitter—_okay, _fine, Bow and Glimmer—were on a diplomatic mission, but there were other soldiers in the palace. Arguably ones who fought better than those two morons. Catra easily could have summoned help.

But she didn’t. Why didn’t she?

She nearly collapsed on top of Adora, her wound gushing, staining her clothes, the mattress, everything. But Catra gripped the wall over Adora’s bed and swallowed a shaky gasp as she watched Adora’s chest.

Adora’s… still… chest.

But—But she’d been snoring before.

This couldn’t be happening.

Catra choked on her panic, tears finally leaking from her eyes, cutting through the blood and sweat that had caked there. “N-No. No, _Adora_!”

Her friend didn’t move.

Her best friend _wasn’t breathing_.

Help. They needed help.

Catra spun towards the door, her vision tunneling, but managed to stagger into the hallway. She slammed against a wall, bracing herself as she tried to scream, tried to alert anyone in this stupid rebel castle that their precious warrior was dead—_no, dying, not dead. She’s not dead._

“Help! H-Help! Anyone, _help_!”

She made it exactly four steps down the hallway before her step missed its mark, before her eyes rolled into her head, before she pitched to the floor.

_Help Adora. Please._

And everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO YES I know I still need to update my virus fic. But thanks to my LOVELY BETA [ Woppy ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alettepegasus/pseuds/alettepegasus) and our new internet friend and AMAZING ARTIST [ TAQUITO ](https://stealthyburrito.tumblr.com/), of whom I am now the proud grandma senior, and Woppy is proud Grandma Jr. 
> 
> So anywhoozies, they wanted whump and angst and pitched Adora getting stabbed and I was like, BUT WHAT IF CATRA IS STABBED INSTEAD, and it snowballed from there. 
> 
> I will post a second chapter to this.... eventually. XD I don't think Woppy and Burrito will let me get away without an ending. 
> 
> I LIVE OFF REVIEWS. Also here's my [ Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/wicked42)! :3


	2. Things Get Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora wakes up, but doesn't see Catra. Meanwhile, the Best Friend Squad discovers Adora's assassin wasn't the only one prowling Bright Moon.

Awareness came in flashes, like a flickering hologram inside She-Ra’s stupid temple.

Hard, wet ground, shaking with thundering footsteps. The clatter of armor echoing alongside a cacophony of pain. Shouting, but in a muffled language Catra couldn’t understand. Rough hands rolled her over, pressed against her chin, her cheeks, her forehead, and Catra swatted weakly to get them away. Her hand didn’t move.

“—dora,” she wheezed. _Get Adora_. But the second she pried her eyes open, tried to gasp in another breath and shout it to these morons, the world dissolved into black, and everything flickered away.

She felt the sensation of being moved, grubby hands all over her, panicked shouting, but that faded too.

And then she floated in the nothingness, but her mind wasn’t content to let her do it alone. She was plagued with masked men, daggers dripping blood, a haunting smile that whispered, “_You will not interfere_.”

Catra screamed herself hoarse, but whenever she lunged for an attack, the man wisped away, smoke on the horizon. His menacing chuckle drowned her, and she spun again, lunged again, and again he vanished.

And then he whispered, everywhere and nowhere, “_Poison.”_

She’d been poisoned.

That’s when the numbness faded, and pain eked into her mind. It was like distant drone of a tank trundling along uneven ground, its gears screeching, its treads threading along the dirt until the growl became a roar and the ominous trickling of fear shifted to mindless terror at what was to come, and then _BAM_.

The _pain_.

Catra screamed, writhing with it. She didn’t know where she was, or why these people were torturing her. Her brain whispered, _Shadow Weaver_, but no, she was long gone. This was more like Hordak’s ire, bearing down on her with a fiery inferno that consumed her mind and scorched her soul.

It hurt. It _hurt_, by the moons of Etheria, it _hurt_, more and more with each ragged breath. Her lips formed Adora’s name, begging now, but the words were lost in a senseless tumble to oblivion.

Catra screamed and cried and slammed to her knees in the black nothingness, desperation giving way to agony and despair as her fingers curled into the nonexistent ground.

And the masked man hovered over her again, brandishing a dagger, plunging it towards her ribs—

Someone grabbed her arm, shouted in her ear. _Adora? No… not Adora—_which meant it was an enemy. Fear seized her, and Catra wrenched from her hold, but then the dagger somehow stabbed her hand and all at once, the pain quieted to a whisper, a murmur, gone.

Everything was gone.

* * *

Adora awoke with a start.

Well, that was a pretty romanticized way to say it. Really, she jackknifed upright with a shuddering gasp, and then promptly dissolved into a bone-wrenching coughing fit over the pristine white sheets of her too-comfy bed.

Her ribs ached with the effort it took to gasp enough air, and she felt weighted, like someone had dropped her under a lake-worth of water. Adora wrenched through her befuddled mind to find some purchase, but everything was fuzzy.

Then someone smacked her back and said, “There, there.”

_Bow_. Adora would have smiled, except he’d hit her hard enough she doubled over, wheezing for breath.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Bow, you’re not helping,” Glimmer hissed, and another shadow swept across her bed. Adora sucked in air, sweat trailing down her face, dripping off her forehead. Her vision was frayed, unraveling at the edges, and her ears were echoing with the thunder of footsteps down metal hallways. Nausea rolled in her stomach, so she ignored her friends, focusing on inhaling slow, careful breaths so she didn’t puke.

A soft hand rubbed along her back, and Glimmer’s voice was quiet near her ear. “You’re okay, Adora. We got you in time. The doctor said you might feel a little sick at first, but it should subside soon, okay?”

Soon. Adora latched onto the word, even as Glimmer’s other sentence niggled in the back of her mind.

_We got you in time_.

In time for what?

“I don’t—know what happened,” Adora managed to rasp. Her throat was dry, her head spinning, but she forced herself to lift her eyes and examine her friends. They weren’t in the infirmary, which was odd. Usually that’s where she woke up after an… accident.

The injurious kind, that is. 

Today, though, they were in a lavish space Adora had only seen once or twice. It was stacked on multiple levels, with them about halfway up the tower, surrounded by pillows and open windows and a gorgeous waterfall. Clearly built for someone who could teleport—or someone with wings.

Angella’s room.

Adora wrenched her gaze back to Glimmer. After what happened, she _never_ came here. But now she and Bow were hovering over a bed she must have teleported up here, just for Adora. The cot was more plush than Adora appreciated, but obviously portable. A nearby table held healing remedies like herbal tea.

Irritation flashed in Glimmer’s eyes at her earlier statement. “I’ll tell you what happened. Bow and I left. And then you almost got assassinated.”

“Murdered?” Bow asked, frowning.

“She’s _She-Ra_, Bow. A princess. It’s an assassination.”

Adora moaned, gripping her head. She was burning up; why did she have a fever? She’d been fine yesterday, hadn’t she? But the day was so hazy she couldn’t remember. Like someone had yanked a film over everything after dinner.

Was she with someone?

Adora blinked hard, staring blearily at the white bedsheets. She was—wait. She was _always_ with someone. And just like that, the huge, missing piece slammed back into place.

“_Catra_,” she gasped. “Where’s Catra?”

An assassination attempt. She would have seen someone sprinting at her with a sword, would have defended herself. But she didn’t have any wounds. No one had cut her, except for a burning scrape on her shoulder. Which meant it must have happened at night.

And Catra slept at the foot of her bed.

Her missing presence was suddenly a gaping hole in the room. Adora’s stomach roiled as Bow and Glimmer exchanged hesitant glances. As Bow said, gently, “She’s still in surgery, Adora. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

_I’m sure_. As if he didn’t know.

Panic wrapped Adora’s fuzzy brain in a sharp, stabbing blanket. “W-What do you mean, surgery? What happened to her?”

“She killed the assassin, but—” Glimmer wrung her hands together, then suddenly turned to observe the waterfall. Must have been easier than staring at Adora’s stricken face. “He used a slow-acting poison on you, Adora. But the dose Catra was hit with… it’s a dozen times stronger.”

“She’s not dead,” Bow said, helpfully. But then he glanced at Glimmer and swallowed. “At least, not as of an hour ago.”

Adora made a choked sound, like someone was physically strangling her. “But you guys have the cure, don’t you? I woke up, so—so you must have figured it out!” She moved to swing her feet to the floor, but Bow pressed a hand on her opposite shoulder, the one not bandaged and burning. When Adora tried to stand anyway, his grip tightened.

“Perfuma identified the poison, but when we administered the cure to Catra…”

“It didn’t work, okay?” Glimmer exclaimed, jaw clenching. “They clearly wanted you to die in your sleep. Catra didn’t give them the chance, and now she’s paying for it. And I don’t know what to do.” Fat tears welled in her eyes now, and she scrubbed at them angrily, glancing around the room.

Her words were left unsaid: _My mom would know._

Well, Angella wasn’t here. It was just them… and Catra, dying alone halfway across the castle. Adora’s panic surged up her throat, and she drew shaking, steady breaths to calm herself. Her stomach roiled, and every muscle in her body ached with the fever, but she had to get herself together.

Catra was dying. Nothing else mattered.

“I have to get to her—” Adora said, pushing against Bow’s hand. “Let me _go_, Bow!”

“You have to stay here. Perfuma said moving could reactivate the poison!”

“Well, what am I doing _here_ anyway, then?” Adora snapped, her fear bubbling over into hot, passionate fury. “Why aren’t I in the infirmary too? _Why isn’t Catra here_?”

Glimmer teleported to Adora’s other side, and in a cruel motion, slapped the burning cut on her shoulder. Adora gasped as white-hot pain slammed into her, numbing her mind with a blinding flare. 

It took several seconds to catch her breath, gasping as she sagged. Bow’s hold became less restrictive, more supportive, but she still swayed dangerously. “W-Why did you—”

Glimmer’s voice was cold, dangerous. “That wound was cut with a dagger laced with the poison. We found it on the floor in your room—which is drenched in blood, by the way. _Catra _was stabbed between the ribs with a different dagger, but hers didn’t just nick the skin. The blade went all the way into her lung, and the poison spread too fast to stop.”

Adora stared at her, dully. Her mind screamed, _No, you’re wrong_, but with her pounding head and burning body, the best she could manage was silence.

“Glimmer,” Bow said, hesitantly. “Maybe now isn’t the time.”

“No, you saw her. She needs to understand what’s happening.” Glimmer’s sharp eyes held Adora’s, binding her in place. “Catra is in surgery, but _you _can’t stay in the infirmary. Someone is trying to _kill you_, Adora. We have no guarantee that assassin was working alone. Until we can sweep the castle and ensure everyone’s identity, you’re staying where we can protect you.”

Moments like this made Adora realize Glimmer was _queen_ now. Not a princess, huffing at authority. A real ruler, forced to make tough decisions to survive.

But this… this was the wrong decision.

“I don’t _care_.” Adora shoved them both away, angrily. She staggered to her feet, stumbling to the edge of the circular platform they were currently on. Scanning for an exit that didn’t involve plummeting to the ground.

“Adora—” Bow tried, but she whirled on him.

“No. I don’t _care _that some mystery person is trying to kill me. I don’t care about poison that may or may not reactivate. What does it matter if Catra—” her words broke off in a choke, and she clenched her eyes shut. When she opened them, fire burned. “Catra killed the assassin to protect me. If his partners try to come after her, I need to be there.”

The two of them shifted, like they hadn’t thought of that. It hardly surprised her; they didn’t think of Catra much, aside from checking her whereabouts with alarming frequency… as if this whole time, she’d just been waiting for a chance to kill Adora and slip back into the Fright Zone.

Catra noticed, too. She’d brush it off, roll her eyes and grin and say, “Wow, paranoid much?” But Adora read through her tone, knew it bothered her.

It was hard, moving to a place where everyone thought you were the enemy. Except unlike Adora, Catra didn’t have She-Ra’s sword to hide behind.

How hard would those doctors even fight to save her life?

Adora really might be sick if she stayed here thinking about it. Her gaze hardened. “Glimmer, if you won’t teleport me down, I’m climbing. Last chance.”

Bow elbowed her, and Glimmer narrowed her eyes. “Uuugh, fine. But after this we’re coming right back here. Got it?”

Adora made no promises.

A flash of light, and Glimmer teleported them to the infirmary.

* * *

They arrived in a war zone.

It shouldn’t have been literal, considering they were deep in Bright Moon, the safest place of the Rebellion, but that didn’t stop Glimmer from teleporting them right on top of a corpse.

They staggered under their uneven footing, and when Adora leapt off, she nearly slipped to the floor. Apparently she lied better than everyone thought, because for all her talk about climbing down that platform, she could barely concentrate past the roaring in her ears, or the way the room spun.

So it was only muscle memory that had her twisting out of the way when someone thrust a dagger at her chest. She grabbed the guy’s wrist and snapped it back, hard enough the _crack _echoed through the room, hard enough the guy—the _assassin_?—couldn’t even scream so much as gurgle in pain.

Adora grabbed his face and slammed his nose into her knee. That broke too, more of a _crunch _than a _crack_, and the dagger clattered to the floor. She dropped the guy to the ground, slammed a kick at his head for good measure and spun, but her vertigo caught up to her, and she nearly dropped to the floor herself.

Gripping the wall, trying to calm the twirling room to assess for threats, she gasped, “Bow? Glimmer?!”

“I don’t have my arrows,” Bow screeched.

“Go find the guards. We need help!” Glimmer turned towards the pair of assassins rushing them and fired a glowing ball of magic. They yelped as it burned their eyes, but it didn’t stop their assault.

Bow wrenched open the door to the infirmary, skidding into the hallway.

Meanwhile, the two men attacked. One swung a sword at Glimmer, but she teleported away too fast. The other spun towards Adora, brandishing a blow gun. He aimed the dart at her and blew air into the tube, and Adora barely managed to dive out of the way. The needle embedded itself in the wall above her head, oozing black liquid.

Poison.

Across the room, Glimmer slapped a hand on the back of her attacker, and they both vanished.

Adora braced herself against the wall, dragging herself upright again. By Etheria, she felt so sick. She inhaled shakily, praying Glimmer came back soon.

The assassin grunted, slipping another dart into the tube. “About time you show up, _princess_.”

“Why are you doing this?” Adora demanded. Her fever felt too intense, so hot it was actually distracting. Sweat poured down her face, but she narrowed her eyes and set a defensive stance. It was shaky, but she’d had experience fighting through pain. She could handle this.

She had to handle this.

The assassin scoffed. “You’re She-Ra. And you’re going to die to—” his speech was abruptly cut short when Glimmer teleported back into the room, grabbed his arm, and vanished again, taking him with her.

Adora stared at the empty wing of the infirmary, shuddering against a sudden fit of chills. They’d been waiting for her. Assassins, just like Bow and Glimmer were afraid of. Adora’s eyes dropped to the corpse they’d arrived on, noted the medical uniform of the doctors of Bright Moon, and suddenly everything seemed to narrow.

Catra.

_Catra_.

Adora shoved off the wall, lurching around unoccupied beds towards the surgical suite next door. It was only used in rare emergencies, but the door was unlocked. When she yanked it open, her foot slipped on the blood that slicked the floor.

It was a massacre. Six bodies spread around a single bed, sliced to ribbons by knives or swords. They might as well have set off a bomb. The only thing that looked unharmed was—

“_Catra_,” Adora panted, leaping towards the bed. Her world narrowed to Catra’s chest, her hands slamming on Catra’s velvety fur the second she got close enough. Was she breathing? _Was she breathing_?

A beat went by.

Two.

Three.

Adora’s breath hitched into a sob, and then—Catra’s chest moved.

“Don’t you dare die, you hear me?” Adora pressed her forehead to Catra’s, close enough she could feel the feline’s sparse breath on her cheek. She pressed her lips to Catra’s and whispered, dangerously, “Don’t you _dare_.”

Catra inhaled raggedly and wheezed, “W-Why? You miss me a—lready?”

Tears pricked Adora’s eyes. She was awake! _Alive_. Thank _Etheria_. Adora pulled back to see her properly, managed a weak smirk. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Pressed by her weight, Catra hissed, a pained sound, and tried to shift away from Adora’s form. Adora sprang back, cringing as the motion jostled her burning shoulder. Well, everything burned now, but it was fine. She’d survive.

“Oh, sorry! I forgot.” Her hazy vision drifted to the bandages on Catra’s chest, half-wrapped. So they’d finished the surgery. But why did the assassins leave Catra alive? Unease pricked her chest.

Meanwhile, Catra pried open her eyes, stared at the physical evidence of her wounds. Her nose wrinkled. “Smells l-like death in here,” she said hoarsely, lips twitching upwards at what she obviously thought was a joke.

The doctors' corpses littered the room, filling it with a stench even Adora could smell. It made her stomach churn, but she squeezed Catra's hand, sagging against the bed. “I should have—”

But then three things happened in rapid succession.

Catra’s eyes, locked on Adora’s, widened.

A shadow cast over Adora’s form, darkening the white sheets of the hospital bed. 

And before Adora could react, Catra threw herself off the bed, yanking Adora to the floor.

For a breath, no one moved. Voices burst into the infirmary beyond the surgical suite, but it was like listening to an instrument across space and time. Out there, the cavalry had arrived. In here… they were too late.

Drips of blood pattered the floor.

“N-No,” Adora breathed.

“Sor-ry—” Catra gasped, too quiet. Quiet enough Adora almost missed the resignation in her tone—like she knew what had happened, knew what was going to happen, and was somehow… fine with it all. Her eyes were inches from Catra’s.

A front row seat as they dulled into glassy, unseeing orbs.

“No.” The word was wrenched violently from Adora’s chest, and she grabbed Catra’s shoulders. Too late. _Always too late._ The feline’s eyes rolled into her skull, and she went totally limp, crashing into Adora on the bloodstained floor.

The dagger sticking out of her back gleamed in the light of the surgical suite.

The assassin standing behind her scowled. “That was meant for you.”

“I’ll kill you,” Adora said, voice trembling. “I’ll _kill you_.”

He smirked. “We’ll just keep coming.”

And then the door opened, and three royal guards stormed inside. One glance was all it took to assess the situation, and in an instant, arrows pierced the room and the assassin’s corpse hit the floor.

Catra was heavy in Adora’s arms. She tried to pull them both up, but her fever was burning, making the world swim and her stomach wrench. Adora vaguely saw Glimmer poofing over, vaguely noticed Bow panicking at her shoulder.

Everything was fuzzy.

Everything except Catra’s still, deadened expression.

“Save her,” Adora gasped, but the words sounded garbled even to her. She tried again, helplessly, trying to stand and lift Catra to safety. “_Save her_!”

But the darkness beckoned, and before Adora could see how they responded, the fever overtook her in a tsunami of flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IN HONOR OF THE AMAZING ANNOUNCEMENT I give you absolute wrecked whump. 
> 
> I have nothing else to say except that eventually I will finish this one AND my other She-Ra fic. *much distract very wow*
> 
> Reviews push me to work harder. It's a known fact. XD


	3. The Almost Ending

And then Catra woke up, bolting upright at Adora’s feet. She gasped, eyes darting around the quiet room. Adora’s snores echoed through the cavernous space, and Catra pressed a clawed hand to her forehead.

“Wow,” she muttered. “I should _not_ eat expired food before bed.”

And with that, she curled over and went back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ..... okay this was a joke. But you guys are lucky [ Woppy ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alettepegasus/pseuds/alettepegasus) and [ Taquito ](https://artbutitsgay.tumblr.com/) stalwartly denied this ending, because it was almost canon. 
> 
> Now click on for the 8,000 word MONSTER I had to write instead. *mutter grumble*


	4. The Real Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, told you I'd finish it. >.>

“Save her,” Adora screamed. Then her face went utterly pale, and she slumped to the ground with Catra’s limp form clutched in her arms.

Glimmer felt hot. And cold. And fucking terrified. The bodies were making her stomach churn, and she clenched her eyes shut to avoid seeing them, avoid looking too closely. These were her _friends_. Doctors who’d raised her, monitored her growth, gave her shots and herbal tea and health advice. A few hours ago, they’d been sleeping like everyone else.

Now they’d never, ever wake up.

Bow grabbed Adora’s shoulders, shook her desperately, pressed his fingers against Catra’s pulse.

Glimmer stood numbly over Adora’s other shoulder, watching the feline’s blood trail around the bright red bandages at her chest, hit the concave of her ribs, drip to the previously white linoleum.

_Tip._

_Tip._

_Tip._

By Etheria, she was going to be sick.

“We have to _do _something,” Bow screeched, his voice pitching like it always did when he panicked.

All eyes turned to Glimmer.

After all, she was _queen_ now.

Sweat trickled down her neck, pooling in her palms. Adora was pale as a sheet, but it was nothing compared to the ashen tone Catra’s skin was taking. Her eyes were half-open, losing their shine by the second. Fading away.

Even if Glimmer could save Adora—it was too late.

And everyone in the room knew it.

“_Glimmer_,” Bow snapped.

“I—I don’t know what—”

And then Bow surged to his feet and slapped her.

No one, in all her life, had ever slapped her.

Cold shock centered her drifting mind, yanking her back to the present, and she gaped at him. “Hey—”

“The sword,” he said, eyes hard, fists clenched so tightly white pinched his knuckles. “Glimmer, you’re the only one fast enough. Get Adora’s sword!”

The sword.

She-Ra.

Of _course_.

Glimmer didn’t wait to see Bow’s response. She poofed away, landing in Adora’s blood-stained bedroom. It still looked devastating, the echoing remnants of a fight she’d never expected to see in the safe confines of her castle. And yet—there was no denying the evidence.

Her heart seized, and she stalked across the room. “The sword. The sword… Where…?”

But the room was empty.

It wasn’t here.

Glimmer nearly laughed, a half-crazed sound. Grabbed a pillow off Adora’s bed and chucked it across the room. “_No_. Not tonight. You won’t take them tonight.” Her snarl bounced off the gleaming walls, smacking her in the face.

She sounded absurd.

No, she sounded defeated.

The sword had to be here. Unless—wait. After the guards hauled Catra off the ground, carried her and Adora to the medical center, didn’t Bow say he was going _back _for the sword? Right! _“For when she wakes up,_” he said. She’d gone to prep her mother’s chambers, and he’d gone for the sword.

And then they apparently _completely _forgot about it.

But still, that meant—

Glimmer poofed again, landing hard on the middle landing of her mom’s bedroom. Her eyes glazed over her mother’s personal effects—a practiced motion these days—and _there!_ Perched against the table holding Perfuma’s concoctions, nearly out of sight, was She-Ra’s sword.

“Yes!” Glimmer snatched it and teleported back to the surgical suite.

Bow had Catra on the floor now, stomach-down, her face turned sideways so she could still breathe. _If _she was still breathing. His hands were dark crimson, utterly stained from applying pressure to the knife wound.

But he was yelling at Adora.

“—to wake up! She’s going to die; we _need _you!”

At the doorway, one of the guards had taken up a defensive position just in case. The other two were moving the doctors’ corpses against the wall, covering them with sheets. A small mercy on the battlefield.

Everyone startled when they noticed Glimmer. She dropped to her knees at Adora’s side—and she wasn’t gentle. She thrust the sword’s golden hilt into Adora’s hand and shook her friend’s shoulders until Adora’s head lolled forward.

“You heard him! Open your eyes,” she yelled. “Adora!”

“I’m losing her,” Bow said, his eyes tearing up.

Glimmer had spent the last few hours imagining how to tell Adora that her best friend in the world hadn’t made it. How Catra had died protecting her, one final, heroic act. She’d spent the evening poofing back and forth, praying to the moons it wouldn’t be true.

Praying to her mother’s spirit that maybe, just maybe, they’d pull through tonight.

And now the reality of that moment was a breath away, one thirty-second sprint where every single step mattered.

Glimmer would _not _be the reason Adora lost someone she loved.

She _couldn’t_.

Her hand glowed with magic, and to Bow’s horrified yelp, she thrust it at Adora’s chest. It wouldn’t kill her, but it burned like a flame and Glimmer knew firsthand how painful it was. Turned out sparkles held an actual spark.

Adora hissed in pain. Not enough. Glimmer narrowed her eyes and strengthened the light incrementally, flinching as the smell of singed flesh saturated the room.

“_Glimmer_,” Bow reached for her, abandoning Catra—

—but then Adora gasped, jerking upright.

Awake.

_Finally_.

“Adora, transform,” Glimmer ordered, using her best queen voice. Even the guards tossing a sheet over the assassin’s corpse paused in their ministrations. Glimmer ignored them all, taking Adora’s chin, directing her glazed vision towards the sword in her hand. “Catra needs help. You _have _to transform.”

The seconds ticked by.

Catra drew another shallow, labored breath, barely audible in the sudden silence of the room. It sounded weak. It couldn’t be enough air. Maybe by this point, nothing was.

Enough. “_Transform_,” Glimmer shouted.

Adora’s eyes widened, and her fingers twitched around the sword. She seemed to regain some semblance of understanding, because she wheezed, “For the honor of Grayskull—” and a blinding flash of gold burned Glimmer’s eyes.

She-Ra stood before them, a glowing beacon of hope. And unlike Adora, she was in peak shape… which meant it only took a moment for her eyes to land on Catra.

Catra, who’s chest had gone completely still.

Bow scurried back, his bloody hands held outright as if to prevent himself from making more of a mess. Glimmer poofed beside him as She-Ra thrust the tip of the sword at Catra’s back, whispered, “I’ve got you,” and closed her blue eyes.

Even though she’d grown up with magic, it never compared to the power that rippled off She-Ra’s form. The very air seemed to electrify, forcing the hair on Glimmer’s arms to prickle, forcing Bow to look away as if it blinded him. Glimmer gripped his shoulder, desperate for contact, as time crept past.

No one spoke.

No one dared.

And then…

Catra gasped.

It was a wet sound, desperate and shuddering, but everyone in the room seemed to laugh. She-Ra’s lips quirked, but she didn’t remove the sword, not until the wound stitched shut before their eyes.

But just as She-Ra’s glow began to fade, Catra started coughing.

She-Ra’s eyes widened, and she dropped to her knee beside her friend. “What’s wrong? Catra? Catra!” Her massive hands braced the feline’s thin shoulders as Catra’s eyelids fluttered, her body writhing with bone-shuddering hacks.

She wasn’t conscious, Glimmer realized.

Was she even healed?

She-Ra seemed to wonder the same thing, because she grabbed the sword again, pressed the flat of the blade against Catra’s shaking back. One eye closed, teeth grinding in exertion, as the blade gleamed blue, as She-Ra’s glow brightened even more. She was pouring everything she had into this, and fear pricked Glimmer’s chest as she thought of Adora just minutes ago, paper-white and burning with fever.

But between the two of them, Catra was in the more immediate danger.

And then Catra gacked, like she was coughing up a furball, and a wet plop echoed through the room. Bow wrinkled his nose, but Glimmer squinted at the black sludge staining the floor.

“Is that—”

“The poison,” She-Ra replied, relief tinging her tone. Catra had gone limp in her hands, but her breathing was far steadier now, the color slowly returning to her cheeks. Her tail hung limp as She-Ra scooped her up, cuddling her friend close. “You’ll be okay.” The words were whispered into Catra’s ear, but Glimmer sagged upon hearing them.

Sometimes, a few minutes made all the difference.

Already, the relief of finishing that sprint sent a wash of weariness through Glimmer’s bones. One of the guards came over and offered his hand, and she took the assistance. “My queen,” the guard intoned quietly. “Perhaps they should recover in your mother’s quarters—”

“What did you say?” Bow stiffened.

The guard blinked. “I don’t think they’d want to stay here. Perhaps they should rest in your mother’s quarters. That’s all.”

They should rest.

_They._

“Oh, no,” Glimmer murmured. Across the room, She-Ra carried Catra out of the surgical suite, away from the trauma, a woman on a mission. But the horrifying realization hung in the air after she vanished.

She-Ra might have healed Catra… but she couldn’t heal Adora.

Which meant this night wasn’t over yet.

* * *

This wasn’t over.

Adora knew it. Even wearing She-Ra’s façade, Adora could feel the poison creeping along her veins. It was like silt at the bottom of a river. Water rushed over it just fine, but one rock and everything would stir up, cloud her progress, maybe even debilitate her. She-Ra was powerful, but Adora had been hurt.

And that wasn’t going away.

But it hardly seemed to matter, not with Catra safe in her arms. Adora gripped her tighter, waiting in the empty hallway outside the medical wing for Bow and Glimmer. They needed a battle plan, but Adora couldn’t stay one more second in that room.

Not with all those bodies.

Not with the memory of Catra’s eyes dulling inches from her own.

“You’re okay. We’re okay,” Adora whispered, but Catra wasn’t awake to hear it. Her external wound was healed, and the poison was gone, but things like that left scars not even She-Ra could fix. She needed a bed, solid rest.

Probably, they both did, but Adora couldn’t focus on that yet.

The door behind her creaked open, and Glimmer and Bow stepped outside. Bow’s hands were stained with blood, and Adora stared at them for far too long. He wrang them self-consciously, seemed to feel the grit, and held them awkwardly near his hips instead.

“What happened?” Adora asked.

She could piece it together, but she needed Bow to make it real. This whole night felt like a daze.

Bow swallowed. “It’s, um… it’s Catra’s.” His eyes flicked to the feline in her arms, and he shifted his weight. “Someone had to apply pressure to the wound.”

Gratitude swelled. “Thanks, Bow.” He offered a pained smile, moved to wave it off, but it was suddenly vital he understand how important this was. Adora stopped him with a look. “No, you don’t understand. I mean it. Catra—she’s—”

“I know,” Bow said, gently.

Adora wished her hands were free so she could hug him properly.

Her eyes turned to Glimmer instead, who was staring at her like _she _was the one who died. “And without you, I’d never have gotten the sword—” Adora noticed it now in Glimmer’s hands, an afterthought even though it saved _everything_. Her throat closed as she imagined how differently the last ten minutes could have gone.

Glimmer didn’t seem to want to dwell. “It’s okay.” She held out her hands, touching Bow and Adora’s shoulders. In a poof of sparkles, they were back in Angella’s room, serene and silent in its solitude.

Adora gently set Catra on the cot she’d occupied only an hour ago. Catra stirred, but didn’t wake. Adora traced her forehead, pushing some of her wild hair behind her ear, which twitched at the gentle touch.

She almost _lost _her tonight.

That made fury swell in her chest, a cold, bitter thing. How dare they? Lots of people wanted to kill Adora, but at least they were bold enough to try it to her face. She’d never dealt with assassins, never felt horror of seeing someone invade her home, massacre innocents.

Maybe this was how the villagers felt whenever the Horde destroyed a town.

But this felt worse, somehow. Dark and personal. This wasn’t an avenue of the war. This was a targeted attack, and it nearly cost Adora more than she cared to fathom.

Glimmer stepped forward, eyes flicking to Catra as Adora tugged a thin sheet over her shoulders. “I’ll bring another cot to my mom’s room, so—so you can both sleep.”

The implication hung heavy between them.

Catra’s body felt warm under her hands, a comfortable, familiar temperature. But the silt of the river stirred, and a flash of fever made Adora wince.

She couldn’t give up She-Ra. Not yet. There was still more to do.

“What if there are more assassins?” Adora asked.

At her side, Glimmer stiffened, hands tightening around the sword. “There aren’t.”

“You thought there weren’t after the one Catra killed,” Adora remarked. It wasn’t accusatory, just pleading. Glimmer needed to understand how dangerous this was.

“Adora, you need to rest—”

“What if there are more, Bow? What if I transform back, and more find their way here? We barely held off three of them.” Adora’s gaze hardened, and she stepped away from Catra’s cot, taking the sword. It hummed in her hand, as if agreeing to her words.

Because she was right, and no one could argue. Adora’s real form was a painful memory right now, but she felt _strong _in She-Ra. Strong and angry. If she’d transformed after dinner when she’d felt loopy, rather than crashing into bed under Catra’s watchful eye, maybe tonight would have gone differently.

She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

“I need to sweep the castle.”

“The whole castle?” Glimmer replied, exasperated.

Adora set her jaw. “Unless you have a better idea for finding them.”

“There is no _finding _them. They’re all dead or gone,” Glimmer ground out.

Gone. Adora paused, latching onto the word. “What do you mean, gone?”

Glimmer pressed her lips together, but Adora had already done the math. One killed in her bedroom, one killed in the surgical suite. The two they’d fought in the main medical bay, though… they’d been poofed away by Glimmer herself.

Adora narrowed her eyes. “Where did you take them?”

“The jail,” Glimmer replied curtly.

Bow frowned at her.

She shifted.

Adora advanced, and in She-Ra’s form, it was a menacing walk. “Bright Moon doesn’t have a jail. Glimmer. What did you do with them?”

Glimmer’s face darkened. “They were in our home, _hurting _my friends. They _killed _people.”

Bow paled. “You didn’t—”

“I dropped them, Bow, okay?” When Bow stared at her, aghast, Glimmer narrowed her eyes. “No. Stop. You don’t get to judge me. I’m the queen. I’m responsible for the safety of _everyone _in this castle, and tonight…” she cut off with a strangled choke. “Tonight I _failed_. There was no way I was giving them another chance to finish Adora off.”

Adora clenched her fist around the sword. She knew by the Rebellion’s standards, they were the good guys. They didn’t kill people. By She-Ra’s standards, even she was supposed to be above that, a gleaming beacon of hope that restored balance.

But she was also an ex-Horde soldier. And they were trained to kill.

Adora was itching with it, now. Catra’s absence to this conversation was a real, tangible presence, a physical reminder of the stakes when these assassins were involved.

“Is there a chance they survived? _Any _chance?”

Glimmer cast a glance at Bow, who looked like he was struggling with this. Adora wanted to help, but it could be addressed later. For now, she needed to focus. So when Glimmer replied, “I mean, it’s possible? Depending on what they landed on,” Adora held out her hand.

“Take me to them.”

“You need to rest—” Bow tried, but Adora shot him a silencing look.

A pleading look.

“I have to do this first. Take care of Catra, okay?”

Glimmer barely spared him a glance before teleporting them both out of Angella’s room.

* * *

Welp.

One was… really, really dead.

Adora squinted at the body, but honestly, there wasn’t much point in investigating further. Glimmer had chosen to drop this one over one of the mountains near Bright Moon, and he landed face-first on a very rocky hillside. If the fall hadn’t killed him, the fact that a boulder smashed his head certainly did.

Adora couldn’t help but feel sick satisfaction that this one was gone too.

Three down.

“Where’s the other?”

“Um, maybe the lake?” Glimmer pointed at the pristine feature further down the hill. It wasn’t like the one outside Bright Moon, shallow and inviting enough to wade through on a hot day. No, this one was so deep the bright blue edges darkened to stunning cerulean in the center.

If she dropped him over that, he might still be alive.

Glimmer waved a hand. “I mean, dropping from that height means the water would be as hard as concrete.” She saw Adora’s expression and her brows knit together. “Wait. You don’t think he survived that?”

“I need a body,” Adora said. “We have to know for sure.”

Glimmer sighed and poofed them closer, right on the bank of the lake. Every other time she’d done it, Adora felt the sickness stir in her chest, fighting She-Ra’s magic. This time, heat spread through her arms, settling at the nape of her neck like a burning piece of coal. Fear curled dark in her chest, a chest that… ached, for some reason. Was she hurt there too?

She gripped the sword harder, desperate to ward off the inevitable.

_You’re fine. You’ll be fine_.

But some part of her wondered if she’d even survive switching back from She-Ra when this was all over.

Oh, Etheria, Catra would be so pissed if that happened.

Adora shoved the pain away and dropped her gaze to the sandy bank. The Horde taught her to track, which meant she could absolutely identify footsteps staggering out of the lake. Glimmer paced beside her, scanning their more expansive surroundings.

But she was clearly distracted. Only a moment went by before she growled, “Ugh. Can you believe Bow? He was judging me. _Me_. Not like assassins almost killed you, twice. Not like they almost killed _Catra _twice too!” Glimmer cast Adora a sideways glance, desperation in her voice. “Am I wrong? I mean, they deserved to die, right?”

“Oh, totally,” Adora said, distracted. The lake was big, and the fire along her spine was growing in intensity. But she couldn’t go home to Catra without finding that assassin’s body. She couldn’t stop without knowing every last one of them was dead.

She lifted her gaze, scanning their surroundings instead of the rocks at their feet.

Glimmer groaned. “But maybe they didn’t. They probably had families too, and I just… took that away.”

“They would have killed you if you gave them the chance.”

“I know. But Bow… he’s kind of my voice of reason. If he doesn’t think this was the right move—” she cut herself off, squinting at something in the distance. Adora followed her gaze to a lump, half-submerged in water further down the beach.

Without warning, she grabbed Adora’s arm and teleported them to it.

Stars burst in Adora’s eyes, blinding her, and the sword pulsed in her hand. Her connection with it felt like a thin thread, fraying with every surge of magic. Every time Glimmer teleported her, a piece of She-Ra’s power melted away, replaced with the sickening nausea of the poison, the muscle aches of an intense fever.

Adora staggered.

This time, Glimmer noticed. “Hey, _hey_!” She grabbed Adora just as her golden boot brushed against the sodden form of the fourth assassin—blow dart guy. Adora remembered him vividly, recalled how his dart buried into the wall, oozing black sludge.

Just like Catra coughed up.

Adora bristled, leaping backwards, readying her sword.

But he was dead too.

“Are you okay?” Glimmer asked, grabbing her arm. “Scratch that. You don’t _look _okay.”

Adora inhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her forehead. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Glimmer scowled. “There is no possible way that’s true.”

Adora ignored her, nudging the body with her boot. “O-Okay. He’s gone too. So… so if there are more in the castle—” Now she cut herself off, because she didn’t want to think about _more_ of these guys lurking through the hallways, hunting for a point of attack. Angella’s room was inaccessible except with wings or magic, but… but what if they happened upon a staff member at the wrong moment? What if they killed someone else?

It’d be Adora’s fault.

“We have to—” Adora started to say, but a roar surged in her ears like an avalanche of inaudible sound, and darkness swarmed her vision. When she opened her eyes again, she was kneeling beside the assassin’s body, bracing herself with the sword, gasping for breath.

Glimmer was gripping her shoulder hard enough to bruise. “Oh, Bow was right. He’s _always_ right. We have to get you back to Bright Moon!”

“W-Wait,” Adora wheezed, but it was too late. There was a flash of light, and they poofed into Angella’s room again.

And it was the push Adora _didn’t _need. She-Ra’s form flickered as she crashed to the ground, nearly dragging Glimmer with her. She felt so sick. Everything was hazy, like someone had yanked a crimson film over life. Pain in her chest flared to life, so vibrant it almost made her black out again. She gripped She-Ra’s shirt, but there was nothing underneath.

Not in this form.

And yet, the fever raged, boiling her skin, clouding her mind. Everything hurt, and she couldn’t focus. W-Where was she? Was Catra here, or had Glimmer poofed her somewhere else? Adora groaned, struggling to focus—when Glimmer screeched, “Bow!”

Someone was in danger. Bow. Adora blinked sluggish eyes, fumbling for her sword.

And then something grabbed her neck. Fingers. They lifted her off the ground, hugging her against a firm body, and a dark voice whispered in her ear, “Finally. I thought I’d never find you.”

Another assassin.

There was another assassin her the entire time. By Etheria, would they ever stop coming? When would this nightmare end?

Adora grabbed the fraying string to her sword, to She-Ra, with both hands and _yanked _it back into being. She couldn’t afford to go down now. She couldn’t lose anyone else. Even if it meant pushing herself.

Even if it meant after this, _she _might not wake up.

“Adora,” Bow yelled, and relief flickered as She-Ra’s form solidified. Her blue eyes traced him, bleeding from a wound on his cheek, but nothing terrible. And if it was poison, it was hopefully a small amount. Glimmer had poofed by his side, but her gaze was on Adora, eyes wide with horror.

Catra was still sleeping on the cot.

Determination sparked in Adora’s chest. No matter what, they’d be fine.

She’d make sure of it.

“Why are you doing this?” she gasped. “And _don’t _say it’s nothing personal.”

The assassin snarled, his fingers tightening on her neck. She choked, but he didn’t seem to care. “Of _course _it’s personal. Everyone I love is dead because of you.”

A rope was swaying near their heads. So he’d dropped onto this platform from above. Calculated. Dangerous. Effective. They wore the Horde uniform, but none of these people were operating under Hordak’s command. This wasn’t how anyone was trained in the Fright Zone.

Adora wracked her brain. “I don’t—I haven’t killed anyone you—”

“You’ve killed plenty,” he hissed. “But that was in the name of the Rebellion. I don’t care about Horde soldiers. What I care about is the massacre of innocents… and the heroes who sit by and watch.”

“Let her go,” Glimmer snapped.

The assassin smirked. His mouth was so close to Adora’s ear, she heard the wet parting of his lips. “Ah-ah. Not another move. I know how your power works. You can’t teleport me out without taking her too, and I guarantee I’ll have killed her before you try.”

Glimmer, about to lunge, stopped in her tracks.

“I’m not going.”

A sharp point pricked her side, and she stiffened. The sword clattered to the ground, her tenuous connection with it fraying. The assassin whispered, “Who said anything about going? None of us are getting out of this alive, _princess_.”

“Adora would never stand by while innocents are killed,” Glimmer said, clenching her fists. “You’ve got the wrong person. She’s not the villain of your story.”

“Flowing blonde locks, white uniform, tiara, flying horse? She’s hard to mistake, Queen Glimmer. And frankly, for someone with so much power, she’s abusing it.” The knife pressed harder into her side, and the bite of its blade sent a chill through Adora’s body.

Or maybe that was the fever. She struggled to focus. Struggled to find the strength to fight.

“If we remove her, She-Ra’s power returns to Etheria. Eventually we’ll get another princess who _wasn’t _part of the Horde. One who knows how to use the power she’s given to save villages like mine,” the assassin said, coldly.

Wait. Saving villages like his. Slowly, the story pieced together. Adora wracked her brain for an argument here, something to distract him so he didn’t gut her before she could react. Across the room, Bow tried the same thing.

“If you kill her, so many more people will die.”

The man laughed, his body rippling with it. “It’s a price I’m willing to live with.”

“You said ‘flying horse,’” Adora whispered.

Everyone went silent.

“What of it?” the assassin asked, begrudgingly.

“You saw my horse. Which meant I was in the air during your village’s attack. That’s what happened, isn’t—isn’t it?” her breath was coming shorter now. “The Horde attacked your village. And… and I flew overhead.”

“They were slaughtered where they stood, their blood staining the ground. We were on a mission from Queen Angella. We were _told _it would give the Rebellion a chance to turn the tides. But the moment we returned, my son took his last breath.” His words were shaking, trembling with emotion. “And not two minutes later, _you _flew right over our heads. You saw the devastation and decided our children weren’t worth your time.”

Adora’s heart shattered. “I—I didn’t see—You have to believe me.”

“I don’t, and neither did my comrades. She-Ra needs to be reborn… and the Rebellion needs a new leader.” He seemed to consider Glimmer now, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll start here.” With a black chuckle, he shoved the knife into her side.

Adora screamed.

_Protect Bow and Glimmer. _

_Protect Catra_.

Her eyes flashed, and she spun, wrenching the assassin’s hand back. Simultaneously, her free hand found the dagger in her side, grabbed the hilt, yanked it out. She slashed at the assassin. He lunged sideways, but blood sprayed as she gashed his arm.

He grunted, producing another dagger from the folds of his clothes. But Adora had taken the time to snatch the sword, and with a feral glow of gold, she swiped in his direction. The power blast was enough to knock him off the platform, and he cried out as he plummeted.

The _crunch_ when he hit the ground probably shouldn’t have been so satisfying. But when his groan filled the air, Glimmer scowled and vanished. The groan cut off abruptly, and a second later she poofed back—alone—with a pointed look at Bow.

“He deserved twice the damage.” Her tone dared him to protest.

Bow just replied, “Oh, I agree,” and tenderly prodded his cheek.

They were safe. Absolutely fine.

Everyone was alive.

“I love you g-guys,” Adora mumbled, and the visage of She-Ra fell away.

Her awareness fell with it.

* * *

Catra awoke to shouting.

It didn’t seem surprising, lately. Everyone seemed loud and panicked—although why, she couldn’t quite place. Something about attacks… intruders in the castle… assassins! Adora, nicked by the knife. Her chest eerily still. Blood pouring from Catra’s wounds.

Waking up a second time, seeing Adora alive and breathing. Relief.

Then, horror. A panicked second where she had one final chance to be _useful_.

One last chance to protect what she loved.

Pain.

Oblivion.

And then—shockingly, shouting.

It came in garbled twists of noise, making Catra’s ear twitch, swiveling unconsciously towards it. The glittery princess, the arrow boy—yelling at something. Adora’s voice, words indiscernible, but the desperate tone undeniable.

And a strange man’s voice. A doctor? Catra tried to pry open her eyes, but they felt glued shut, like it had been a thousand years since she opened them.

Actually, she ached all over.

Which was… a noticable difference to last time, when the pain was so intense she could barely comprehend it. It had taken everything she had to joke with Adora. Every last ounce of strength to cover her from the attack. And then she was spent, and the darkness was so cold, the aloneness so terrible.

Now she just ached, which meant... she’d been healed.

Adora healed her.

More shouting. A scuffle. Catra tried to focus, tried to respond, but her body was molasses, her limbs not responding how they should. She moaned, but it was drowned in a sickening _crunch_.

A poof of magic.

Murmured conversation with Adora’s absurd Best Friend Squad.

Adora muttering, quiet words Catra had spent years longing to hear. Her ear twitched again.

A slumping sound.

“_Adora,_” Glitter screeched.

That wasn’t a good tone of voice. And blood saturated the air, making Catra’s stomach turn. So if Glitter was worried, then Adora was in trouble.

But Catra couldn’t open her eyes. She tried, but it was like opening them in a dream. Yanking and yanking on the eyelids, only to see muddled color. It swam around her like a dazed nightmare, and she clenched her eyes shut just to keep from throwing up.

Adora.

She had to get to Adora.

But the darkness had other plans, and she slipped back into unconsciousness.

* * *

When she came to the next time, her aches had faded. Adora’s magic felt like a warm hug, spreading through her veins, separating pain from exhaustion, nullifying the former, exasperating the latter. Catra felt like she could sleep for weeks, but some niggling thought pressed her brain.

Adora’s magic.

_“Adora_,” Glitter had cried.

Adora was hurt.

Maybe Adora was dying.

Catra gasped at the thought, jackknifing upright in bed. Her body was heavy, but she clawed past it, blinking in the dark confines of a room she’d never seen. Its windows had been shuttered, its multi-tiered platforms arranged to confine Catra to this level. She hissed and glanced around, her feline eyes cutting through the dark.

Blood still tinged the room, but its scent was buried beneath acrid cleaning solutions. A table of dark potions sat unused in the corner. A tall, thin figure strode to another cot opposite Catra, a cot bearing another figure. A figure with Adora’s blonde hair.

Catra lunged out of bed, brandishing her claws. “Get _away _from her!”

The figure yelped, leapt back from the cot. Catra stumbled, and the woman rushed forward. “Oh, _oh_! Hang on. You’re—well, you’re not supposed to be up yet. I think some of the poison’s still lingering—”

Catra had met her before. The flower princess. Plantina? It hardly mattered.

She bared her fangs when Plantina tried to steady her. “I’m fine. I can do it myself.” Urgency and panic faded into weariness as Catra staggered to the other cot, sunk to her knees at Adora’s side.

“What’s wrong with her?” Catra demanded.

Plantina hovered anxiously, wringing her hands. “Um. Well, she—she was poisoned. But I thought you knew that?”

“She was _fine_,” Catra said, and the anguish in her voice was hard to disguise. She _was _fine, wasn’t she? She’d stood over Catra’s prone form, _kissed her_, laughed about what a disaster this had been. “She’s fine. I saved her. Didn’t I?” Desperation filtered into her voice.

It was ridiculous. A stupid question. _Obviously _she hadn’t.

And yet, staring at Adora’s pale face, Catra found herself hoping the princess would agree with her words.

Plantina took a minute to respond, as if choosing her words carefully. “She—She moved too soon, going to see you. It reactivated the poison. And then she transformed into She-Ra and… um,” Plantina swallowed. “The magic didn’t do her any favors.”

Catra’s fuzzy mind latched onto “transformed,” and she dug her claws into the cot beside Adora’s arm. Her girlfriend’s face was too still, and Catra could barely hear her shallow inhalations. The breaths were too far apart. It was too close to that night in her room, when they’d stopped entirely.

She smelled like death. Not entirely, but—it was there. The musty scent of a person hovering on the edge.

Catra felt like death thinking about it.

“Why did she transform? What a _stupid _thing to do.” Catra’s voice broke.

Plantina hesitantly knelt, wrapping an arm around Catra’s shoulders. The contact made her stiffen, almost lash out, but it felt… kind of good. Comforting. Almost like something Adora would do. The flower princess didn’t have her strength, her muscles, her scent, but Catra found herself leaning into it anyway.

Until Plantina whispered, “She saved your life. Y-You would have died.”

Catra flinched in her arms.

She should have died.

It should be her on this cot, not Adora.

Stupid, thoughtless, selfless, _brave _Adora, who Catra couldn’t keep alive even after literally taking a knife to the back for her. Tears pricked Catra’s eyes as she stared, horrified, at her dying friend.

“I’m sorry, Catra,” Plantina whispered.

It was a hollow phrase.

“You’re saving her, right? That’s why you’re here.” Catra felt herself bristling, and the princess must have noticed too, because she released her shoulders and took a respectable step back. She hid it by pretending she was examining the potions and herbal concoctions on the far table, but her hands just brushed over the plants.

She looked utterly devastated. Catra hadn’t noticed the deep bags under her eyes, or the wobble in her voice, until now. “I’m—_Etheria_, I’m trying. But I just don’t—” her words choked, and she hunched over the table with clenched fists. “I sent Bow and Glimmer to bed. Told them I could handle this. Catra, I don’t know _how_ to help her.”

Catra surged to her feet, stalking towards the princess. She felt achy, her footsteps clumsier than usual, but she was awake and alive. Thanks to Adora.

She’d be damned if this princess’s guilt trip killed her best fucking friend.

“You’re going to need to figure it out,” Catra growled. “This isn’t some herbal tea you’re fucking up. This is Adora’s life. So get over whatever the hell this is and _fix her_.”

Plantina clenched her eyes shut, like she couldn’t meet Catra’s gaze. “I _can’t_.” Her words were strangled. “I already told you. It’s a poison I’ve never seen before. I don’t know what it’s made of, and without that, I can’t counter it.”

Adora drew another shallow breath, and Catra’s ear twitched towards the sound. It was like the hollow whistle of a gun powering down, barely a breath at all. Catra narrowed her eyes. “I killed the assassin. Didn’t he have anything on him? More poison, or an identifying badge?”

“I don’t—think so?”

Catra snarled. This princess was no use. “Where’s Glitter?”

“Glimmer? I told you. Bed.”

“Bullshit. If you’re just going to stand by, I’m getting her.”

Now Plantina’s eyes widened, and she spun towards her. “Um, no! You’re not okay yet either; you need bedrest and—”

“_I_ _need Adora_!” Catra screamed, and the words were so raw the princess clamped her mouth shut. Catra ran a hand through her unruly hair, clenching the tufts around the back of her skull. “I need her. Okay? So get Glimmer over here. _Now_.”

Trembling, Plantina fumbled for a comm device, probably left by arrow boy. She tapped the screen a few times, and a second later a magical poof brought the queen. Glimmer looked even more exhausted than they did, but she immediately bent over Adora.

“Did she—” she noticed her chest rising and heaved a sigh. “Oh, thank the moons. Perfuma, _why _are you scaring me like that?” Then her eyes trailed to Catra, and she straightened. “Oh. You’re awake.”

The words were carefully neutral.

Catra’s weren’t. “Yeah. What the hell do you mean, you don’t know what kind of poison it is? Didn’t you _search _those assassins?”

“Perfuma’s figuring it out—”

“No I’m not,” Plantina—apparently Perfuma—wailed. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Glimmer! I can’t save her.”

Glimmer went pale. “B-But you said—”

“Enough!” Catra stalked between them. “We don’t have _time _for this. Where are the bodies?”

“The two here don’t have anything we can identify them with. We checked,” Glimmer muttered.

Catra’s tail flicked in agitation. “And the others?” She had to assume there were more than the one who’d stabbed her, and the one she’d killed.

Glimmer shifted.

“What?”

“I dropped them, okay? They’re all dead.”

“Good,” Catra bared her fangs. “Take me to their bodies.”

Glimmer’s eyes flicked to Adora, and she held out her hand, determination etched on her face. Catra grabbed it, and they poofed to a serene mountain lake marred by corpses. Catra glanced at Glimmer for just a moment with grudging respect before trudging to the nearest one.

“That’s the one who attacked Adora last. The whole castle’s on alert, but we don’t think there are any more.”

“You don’t _think_?” Catra hissed, crouching beside the man’s body.

Glimmer crossed her arms, but looked close to tears, so Catra didn’t say anything else. She just began rummaging through the body’s clothing, undoing folds and pockets and dropping knives and rope and rations on the ground.

“That’s what the others had too.”

“Did the others have this?” Catra’s fingers clasped a thin bottle, and she held it up to reveal thick black sludge inside. The poison. She tossed it to Glimmer, who caught it with a bit of fumbling.

“I don’t know if Perfuma can dissect this—”

“She’d better,” Catra snapped.

Glimmer scowled. “We’re all worried too, Catra. Stop pretending like you’re the only one who cares about her.”

“I _am _the only one, apparently. You all went to bed,” Catra snarled, spinning on the queen. “And furthermore, who the hell lets—” her eyes skimmed the bodies here, counting, “—five assassins into their castle without anyone the wiser? I thought Bright Moon was supposed to be _safe_.”

“Well, why didn’t _you _notice one slipping poison into Adora’s food? You were eating with her!” Glimmer shouted.

Catra stiffened, her tail lashing furiously. It wasn’t her fault. She’d thought it was sleeplock. She didn’t know it was poison, and she paid the price for it. How _dare _this ex-princess try to use that against her?

But then Glimmer said, “Hang on. What’s that?”

A fold of his clothes had slipped down, revealing a thick black tattoo on his wrist. Catra grabbed the cold skin, twisting it in a way that would be painful if he weren’t already dead. The tattoo was a set of crossed daggers, framed above the old queen’s winged silhouette.

Glimmer frowned. “Wait. I’ve—I’ve seen that.” Her eyes widened. “He was one of my mom’s assassins!”

“Your mom had _assassins_?”

“Bright Moon instated them centuries ago, for times of war. They’re elite warriors, and Mom never wanted me to know when she used them.” Now Glimmer’s shoulders slumped. “There’s only ever five at a time, so I guess they really are all dead. B-Because we didn’t protect their village.”

“Don’t feel _sorry _for them,” Catra said venomously. Honestly, Catra was one second from slashing his dead face to ribbons. Instead, she surged to her feet, grabbing Glimmer’s shoulders. “Think, queenie. Did your mom keep records of the kind of poison they used? Something the flower princess can use?”

Glimmer’s eyes widened. “If she did, I know exactly where it’d be.”

They poofed again, leaving the lake for good.

* * *

It took three days.

Three _days _after Plantina concocted the antidote before Adora opened her eyes.

Catra was itching for it. She felt perfectly fine on day two, despite a brief relapse after running around with Glimmer. But She-Ra’s absurd magic was also absurdly powerful, so even though she collapsed—okay, she didn’t _collapse, _thank you, but she definitely hit her cot harder than expected when arrow boy finally shooed her to bed—Catra felt far better when she awoke.

By then, the color had returned to Adora’s cheeks, too.

And then the waiting game.

Three _days_.

So when Adora groaned, wrenching open steely eyes, Catra flicked her nose.

“Ow,” Adora mumbled. Her gaze was sluggish, taking too long to focus on Catra, but then a goofy grin split her lips. “C-atra! You’re awa-ke!” She was slurring words, but it was music to Catra’s ears.

Catra leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. Her claws gently pressed her cheek. “That was for being a moron.”

Adora blinked, eyes glazed. “Hmm?”

“You. You’re an idiot. A stupid, selfless moron. _Don’t _try it again.”

It was taking her a while to comprehend it. They’d managed to get Adora to drink the antidote just as her breaths were spacing dangerously far, and it almost instantly helped. But Catra wasn’t stupid enough to think recovery would be anything faster than excruciating.

Adora’s eyelids fluttered, but she still seemed absurdly happy Catra was talking to her. “Sh-orry. I guess?”

“Yeah. Sorry,” Catra sniffed.

The word hung between them. Catra was certain Adora didn’t recognize its significance.

Adora was still smiling. “I misshed you.”

Catra swallowed past the lump in her throat, and her hand wound around Adora’s. Adora offered a weak squeeze, which brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them away before Adora could notice, and replied, “I missed you too. Get better already. I think we need to teach you how to tell when food is spoiled.” _Or poisoned_, she thought darkly.

“Heh,” Adora chuckled breathily. “S-Sure.”

Her eyes fell shut again, and her breathing evened out.

Catra glanced around to make sure they were alone in the dead queen’s room, but Glitter and arrow boy—who apparently was something of a tech boy too—had spent the last few days revamping castle security. They were sleeping again, and this time it was well-earned.

In the solitude of the day, Catra gently pushed a stray hair off Adora’s forehead, then pressed a kiss to her lips. “Don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

But she knew Adora would repeat the week’s events if pushed to that point.

They both would.

Feeling sick at the thought, Catra settled in to wait for Adora to wake up again.

* * *

“Pretty sure we should have brought your horse,” Catra drawled.

Adora winced, hand hovering over her chest as she staggered over a gnarled root. Glitter had gone feral, apparently, and burned Adora’s skin pretty badly to wake her up back in the surgical suite.

It saved Catra’s life, but that didn’t mean she appreciated it. Especially considering how Adora’s brows pinched whenever her clothes brushed against the raw burn.

Could have been worse, though. Apparently the last assassin stabbed her, too—but that didn’t stick outside of She-Ra’s monster form. Injuries sustained there seemed to fade away when she transformed back into Adora. It kind of made Catra wish she’d only fight with the stupid tiara on.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Adora replied, her breath coming too hard. “He’s his own horse.”

Catra stepped closer, but didn’t offer a hand. Partly because she thought Adora wouldn’t appreciate it, but mostly because this was a stupid way to spend their afternoon _one day _after Plantina allowed her out of bed.

“Please. He couldn’t do anything to me if he tried,” Catra said dismissively.

Adora snickered. “He’ll rant your ear off. That’s enough.”

Catra laughed, but it died out as Adora hissed when a branch hit her chest. She looked pale, deep bags under her eyes. Irritation curdled in Catra’s chest, and she took the lead, making sure to clear the path so Adora wouldn’t have to struggle as much. “For the record, I think this is a stupid idea.”

“I need to see the village,” Adora said quietly.

“They’re all dead. What’s there to see?”

Adora went silent, and Catra glanced over her shoulder to see her best friend studying the ground, pensive.

Catra stopped walking. “Shit, Adora. It’s not your fault. You know that, right?”

But of course she didn’t.

“I was _right there_. They were right to be furious with me.”

Catra cackled a brutally dark laugh. “No, they weren’t! You are not responsible for every fucking village’s safety. You can’t _stop _all the attacks.”

“I could have stopped this one!”

“Glitter said you flew overhead _after _his kid died. How could you have stopped this?”

Distracted, anguished, Adora missed her next step and nearly crashed to the ground. Catra lunged to catch her, but accidentally brushed her chest wound. Adora whimpered, closing her eyes to ride out the obvious waves of pain as she gripped Catra’s arm for balance.

“We need to go back,” Catra said. “You’re making things worse.” She almost added, “_like always,_” but considering Adora’s mindset, she doubted that’d be appreciated. Probably, it’d make her do something even stupider, like deciding to tackle the Horde _right now_.

Adora inhaled through her nose. “I need to see it.”

Catra bared her fangs. “Why? So you can feel even guiltier about it? Shit happens, Adora. It’s _war_. But that’s no reason to go around trying to murder innocent people for some messed-up revenge!”

“I… think if something happened to you, I might do something I’d regret too.” Adora met her gaze, grey pinning blue and yellow.

Catra stiffened.

“And something tells me I’m not the only one.”

The denial was fresh on her tongue—_don’t be stupid, I didn’t do this for you. You misunderstand_—but she didn’t bother voicing it. They both knew the truth. If someone killed one of them, “messed-up revenge” would start to sound pretty enticing.

Anything to stop hurting.

The hollow ache of thinking Adora was dead—twice—still lingered in Catra’s chest. Her grip tightened, and she gently pulled Adora’s arm over her shoulder, offering support. Wordlessly, she led them forward, towards the assassins’ village.

It was a breeding grounds for skilled killers, apparently. Glimmer found all kinds of notes on it. Angella used them for dirty work, things a queen couldn’t admit to ordering, but needed to be done in times of war. Before she died, she sent the Five, the top of the top, on a mission. They probably thought the others could protect themselves.

But it was really ancient history in the grand scheme of things. The Five must have been planning this for months, past Angella’s death, Glimmer’s coronation, Catra’s defection. Waiting in the shadows for the perfect moment.

“I just don’t know why they’d try to stab you after they already poisoned you,” Catra muttered, her fingers tightening around Adora’s waist.

Adora grunted, picking over another root. “Best I can figure? They thought maybe it wouldn’t kill me and came to make sure.”

“Cowards,” Catra muttered.

“I’m glad you were there,” Adora leaned her head on Catra’s temple. Smooshed between them, her right ear twitched, tickling Adora’s cheek. She laughed a little, but her admission had only sent guilt blossoming in Catra’s soul.

She leaned away from Adora, swallowing hard. “It wouldn’t have happened if I’d just _said _something at dinner. None of it would have. Because I knew, you know. That they’d done something to you. I just didn’t say anything because I thought I could _handle it_.” Catra laughed, near hysterical, but poison tainted her words.

“I knew too,” Adora said.

Catra stopped cold, glancing at her.

“What?”

“Come on, Catra. Obviously something was wrong. But—” Adora swallowed. “But I knew you were looking out for me, so I didn’t say anything. It almost cost you everything. That’s my fault.”

Catra’s tail lashed. “Why is everything _always _your fault? Don’t you get tired of it?”

“Wait. Why are you the only one allowed to take the blame for this?”

Silence descended as they realized how absurd they both sounded. And then matching grins spread across their face, and Catra said, “I think you’re crazy.”

“I think _you’re _crazy.”

“Really working that half a brain cell, huh.”

Adora laughed, pushing her so they both stumbled a bit. Then she drew a breath, squinting through the woods. “Maybe… maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t need to see this village.” She hung her head. “I’m so tired.”

Catra smirked. “Well, yeah. You almost died a week ago.” _Twice_.

“No,” Adora said, and she sounded so defeated Catra’s eyes flicked to her face. “No, I mean… I’m just tired. Of being She-Ra. Of having everyone expect things of me, and get disappointed when I just _can’t _do them.”

Catra swallowed, trying to figure out how to fix this. “I mean… the only thing I expect from you these days is that you’ll do some dumb hero shit, and I’ll have to bail you out when things go south. But sure. It’s a _real _disappointment when that doesn’t happen.”

Adora snorted.

“I’m…” Catra paused, forcing the words out. It was a bit mushy for her, but something told her Adora needed to hear it. “I’m really jealous of your responsibility.” Catra winced, wondering if she’d realize that was why Catra took on the assassin in the first place. A chance to prove she belonged too. That she could help, too. Some help. “It was stupid. You’re just kind of inspiring. It’s probably the tiara.”

“The tiara is pretty shiny,” Adora said, and squeezed her hand.

“Blindingly so,” Catra replied. “Can we go home now?”

Adora gazed into the gnarled mess of woods before them, decidedly not a village. She drew a slow breath, then said, “Yeah. I have all the answers I need right here.”

“Wow, Adora. Sappy.”

“_You’re_ sappy.”

Catra snickered, and they turned around.

It was time to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, WHEW. Told you guys I'd finish it.......... eventually. 
> 
> I cannot tell you how close I was to posting that other ending and just marking it complete. XD But I am glad I was able to give it the attention it deserved. What started off as a whumpy joke has now become a real, verified fic. Who knew. >.>
> 
> I'll hopefully do the same with The Only Cure, someday. Cross your fingers for me. XD


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